


Your World and Mine are Separate

by EL1237



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies), Frozen - Anderson-Lopez & Lopez/Lee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cruelty, F/F, Hans and Kristoff ship will only be minor, Hurt/Comfort, Medical, Near Future, Recovery, Serious Injuries, Slightly OOC characters, Social Hierarchy, Trauma, inspired by a webtoon, you’ll see what I mean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:15:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27867473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EL1237/pseuds/EL1237
Summary: A new physician just beginning her career doesn’t have time for love. A witch left to die doesn’t know love. Tell me the odds of them being together.
Relationships: Anna & Elsa (Disney), Anna/Elsa (Disney), Hans/Kristoff (Disney)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 72





	1. Something About You

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Days of Hana](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/721249) by Seokwoo. 



It had been a brutal day at the hospital.

Her shift had ended hours ago, but because of the massive influx of patients, she had stayed and worked overtime. It was now nearly two in the morning. Sighing to herself, she dreaded the thought of waking at eight the next morning to return. If she wasn’t called in sooner that is.

Stepping out of her car, she began the trek toward her apartment from the tiered parking garage, and across the still busy North Mountain Avenue of Arendelle City. Breathing in the brisk air, she laughed to herself.

‘Just work seventy hours a week and we’ll pay you half a million a year. But you’ll never have time to enjoy it!’ she thought with a hint of bitterness. Truthfully, the pay was the only reason she’d taken the contract from Sorlieg Physicians and Surgeons. At least her student debt was eliminated rather than drowning her. Still, when they said seventy hours, they had meant _minimum_ , not maximum.

Her apartment was located in a complex for the city’s wealthier residents. Beautiful gardens and amenities were made readily available. Patting her jacket over her work scrubs, she found her key card while making her way through the paved path of the courtyard situated in front of the building. Then, she heard it.

A soft whimper of pain filtered through the air to her tired ears. It had been barely audible and seemed to emanate from the neatly trimmed bushes.

Normally, she would have walked on. Abandoned witches and wizards were left for dead on the streets regularly. Particularly around the portions of the city housing the elite, the trampled-upon population of enslaved people could be found, shivering like the homeless in the Arendellian cold. Typically, they were ignored by most, but angry pedestrians spitting on and kicking at the wretched creatures was not out of place. The fortunate were taken to shelters and the rest, well, Anna didn’t know.

Today, some part of her old, impulsive nature came through, stirring her emotions. Sighing to herself, she began her search. Before long, she found the source of the pitiful sound.

The woman was so blonde her hair was comparable to silver thread. Her skin wasn’t fair behind in paleness or luminosity. Both were sullied with streaks of blood. Presently, she was trembling, eyebrows delicate and arched in distress. 

Anna hesitated, ‘What the hell am I thinking? This could get me in deep shit and I have work tomorrow! She could be dangerous.’ The latter portion of her thoughts sounded unconvincing even to herself. How could someone unaware of what was inches in front of them defend themselves, much less harm someone? Pushing aside the mounting concerns, she picked up the limp form. Though the woman was slight, Anna silently thanked Rapunzel for making her workout with her. 

The kale smoothies still had little to be desired.

Walking toward the door, she realized it would likely scan the woman and sound the alarm. Gently setting the woman down, she prayed briefly until her concern washed away; her tag was still intact. The machine would simply register a master with their slave in tow, rather than an unregistered alien harming an important woman.

The elevator made its smooth ascent toward the seventh floor as Anna awkwardly carried the unconscious woman. Hopefully, she would not be accused of murder; the elevator was entirely made of transparent, reinforced glass.

Hip-bumping the door as soon as another sensor scanned the card pinned to her front, she entered the apartment and gently set her load on the couch. Quickly, she returned with a first-aid kit and warm, wet towels. Gingerly, she peeled the previously white jacket off to reveal a white shirt showing blooms of blood. Each item of clothing marked the witch’s status and ownership to “H.S.”, whoever that was. The shirt joined the jacket on the floor after a cautionary check for a bra—white of course.

As soon as the shirt was removed, Anna gasped at the blood. A trauma surgeon in Arendelle City’s busiest hospital was astounded. 

Bruises, black like deadly roses against her porcelain skin covered every inch of flesh. They provided a chilling backdrop on which cuts and scrapes opened her skin, exposing the bleeding flesh underneath. The vast collection of injuries were in various states of healing, and sickeningly, some looked to be very fresh. 

Carefully bringing a basin of water in a brand-new, exceptionally large salad bowl, she sponged the grime from the exposed areas as best as she could.

With another few minutes of work and the clock reading around half past two, Anna cleared the table of supplies and went in search of a blanket. Finding one in her room that was probably drool-free, she made her way back into the small living room.

Gently placing the fluffy cover over the witch’s prone form, unsolicited details came to her mind. The blonde was incredibly beautiful with her cascade of platinum strands falling from her braid, covering her slender shoulders. Half-dead and unconscious, she had more poise and elegance than any reasonable person should. Her soft-looking lips were slightly parted, breathing softly while her fingers grasped at the warm blanket.

The ginger surgeon checked vitals once more before going about her nightly routine. By the time she was through, she made a last check.

There was no doubt that she would need to be sent to Rapunzel’s clinic. The first thing next morning would be to send the woman to the emergency medicine doctor. The injuries were just too grave and they didn’t fall well into her specialty. Still, the prospect of explaining why she was in illegal possession of a witch, even to one of her oldest friends, was not appealing. 

“God, I’m so fucking impulsive,” she sighed to herself. After a few minutes of brooding, she extended a nearby couch into a suitable sleeping surface; the other woman would need her condition monitored.

With the clock well past three, Anna pulled her own blankets over herself. When she fell asleep, she was dreaming of a small girl crying while merciless whips came down.


	2. Approaching: Event Horizon

Seven. The alarm screamed and Anna slapped at it before quickly rising to begin preparing for her eight o’clock shift. A quick check on the blonde made the physician reel with alarm—the woman was quivering and absolutely burning up. Every detail of the witch, down to the delicate fingers clinging to her blanket—Anna’s blanket—cried hurt and fear. The surgical, cold detachment she had internalized since residency fell in favor of sympathy. 

‘Right. That’s why I made this idiotic choice.’ Hastily calling in sick and disregarding how she’d probably get slammed with a 36-hour shift later, she called Rapunzel quickly after.

“Hey Anna! Aren’t you on duty?” her friend answered cheerily.

With little preamble, the redhead dove in, “Do you have an opening for an appointment? I’ve got someone who needs help, stat.”

“Anna, if it’s an emergency, call 119. Are you alright? I mean of course I have an opening now, but I’m scheduled on the fly. What’s so urgent?” her friend’s playfulness flew out the window in concern as her inner hospitalist came out.

“Complicated. Can’t have other nurses around. Patient has a high fever and severe physical injuries. She’s stable but she isn’t doing well,” the surgeon reeled off.

A huff blew into Anna’s receiver, “Christ. Do you have a criminal or something? Tell you what, I’ll get Kristoff to cover for the rest of my shift since it’s...q-u-i-e-t. This better be important cause cuz I just finished a 24-hour hellion for God’s sake. I’ll be over in half an hour.” She hung up.

Locking her phone with a sigh of relief, Anna glanced at the tossing and turning figure on her couch, ‘At least she’ll be okay.’ Kneeling carefully in front of the apartment’s newest inhabitant, she gently peeled off the askew blanket and began checking her bandages. After she confirmed no disastrous developments had occurred overnight, she decided to wait for her friend to arrive and treat the unconscious woman more appropriately.

Pulling the cover back to its original spot, she mused, ‘Aren’t you a sleeping beauty.’ Gazing upon the unconscious witch, a strong protective urge came over her. The witch seemed to pull something deep in the ginger’s gut that made her disregard logic more than she liked to admit. 

Long, near-white eyelashes fluttered with eye movements in her sleep. Anna imagined that crystal-like, sky blue eyes would be behind her sleeping eyelids. Despite having spent a whole night rolling feverishly, her hair remained in the same cascading waves of platinum. The same couldn’t be said about her caretaker’s rat’s nest, so the redhead went about her morning. 

Finishing her shower, the doctor sauntered into the kitchen in search of breakfast. After finding something suitable, she slumped to her spare couch and began watching the morning news while tapping her foot impatiently. Flicking through channels, she came across something that made her pause.

“—of magic users,” a smirk at the politically correct euphemism, “Found on the streets lately. Many are becoming rebellious against their masters lately,” an anchor reported with obvious distaste.

“Well, I say we make use of that city remote,” a young, greasy-looking man snarked, referencing a control that commanded the implants around each registered mage’s neck to deliver a nasty injection. The serum caused dizziness and debilitating pain immediately, and would do so for hours unless the antidote was administered. It had been developed by Weselton Pharmaceuticals, well-known by the CEO’s awful toupee.

The woman on screen turned to her partner, “I’ll say, I agree, Tom. And for today’s—”

Halfway through her bagel, her apartment door groaned and rattled as what had to be a bulldozer crashed into it. Shouting on the other side let her know Rapunzel had arrived and she ran for the door before she woke the entire building.

“Where is she?” the brunette woman wasted no time. Her satchel held all sorts of items she used to treat patients and when she was pointed toward the couch, the emergency medicine doctor made for it in a beeline.

Flicking the blanket away deftly, she moved about quickly and surely, undressing and redressing wounds and applying a variety of medications at blinding speeds. Watching her friend work, she began taking mental notes for future reference.

After she finished, the green-eyed woman sighed, stretching and standing, “That’s the best I can do for now,” she proceeded to give her fellow physician a rundown of instructions for when she left, “That’s essentially all we can do since she can’t be in a proper clinic. Who is she, even? And why can’t she be in a hospital?” She began pulling tubes and jars from her satchel and began placing them, one by one, on the coffee table.

“It’s a long story,” her red-haired friend rubbed her face tiredly, but began to recount her story of finding the witch and bringing her into her apartment.

Alarm in her expression, Rapunzel stated, “That’s all kinds of illegal and not okay. What if her owner comes back for her?”

“I don’t know,” Anna had thought this through even less than she considered.

Worried eyes gazed at her, “You could lose your license over this woman. Send her to a shelter.” 

Shaking her head vehemently, “She’s not some fucking animal. She’d get put down there, or get beaten again when she’s returned to whatever bastard owns her,” casting her teal eyes down, she found herself looking at the blonde’s hand, “How can I do that to her?”

‘Why do I care so much about you?’

“You were always too kind for your own good,” Rapunzel murmured. Picking up her scalpel, she brought it to the mage’s throat and cut before Anna could stop her.

The tracking collar came off in her hand, “Since you’re going to do this, do it right,” she crushed the tracking device and the little machine died, “I’m going to take the collar and scan it. I’ll bring you the information that the reader says later.”

Gratefulness in her eyes, she whispered, “Thank you.”

***

She woke from her well-deserved nap, and made her routine check on the other woman. After she made certain her bandages were fresh and a new coating of the host of medications left by Rapunzel were applied, she slumped back down in relief at the visible improvement the woman was showing. Her fever was blessedly beginning to abate.

Resting with her head tilted back, Anna felt the serene quiet of the apartment seep into her. Though her week-long break from her “severe flu” would be necessary to care for the sleeping blonde on her favorite couch, it was still odd that she had free time. Hours of it. 

Stomach rumbling, she decided to attempt dinner in her barely-used kitchen. Shuffling around, the surgeon made a passable meal of chicken and rice before settling down to keep watching a new show and return to her vigil over the mage. 

As a charming ad involving toilet paper and bears vanished, a narrator spoke as the screen showed a wintry terrain. The camera panned to show the desolate landscape and the massive, snow-covered bison nosing the ground. A bloodied white wolf whined plaintively as the speaker continued to provide context: a brutal winter, devastating cold, and starvation; the wolf and its partner were incredibly desperate.

The darker, near black wolf slunk off with a hobble, and as she ate, Anna watched  the white wolf get launched into the air as two horns slammed into its side. The wolf, a female, weighed ten times less than its prey.

“A near suicidal hunt. But it must eat, or it shall starve before the week is out.”

The juvenile bison ran to the herd, drawing the attention of beasts now nearly twenty times heavier than the wolf itself. Its meal disappeared for good as a wall of impenetrable adult bison grunted and showed their sharp horns. When the injured wolf made to advance, the head of the cluster of beasts took it upon herself to charge, tearing into the wolf’s flank and flinging her limp body tens of yards. 

A high-pitched whimper escaped the dying canine, and the narrator explained that she would bleed to death before sundown. The bison moved on, leaving the wolf in a pool of her own blood, too weak to lift her head. The screen faded to yet another batch of commercials that seemed inappropriately cheerful.

She looked at the sleeping person on her couch, ‘Would you have survived another day if I never found you?’

***

After finishing her overly-salty dinner, she returned to the kitchen to do dishes. Wiping her hands on the towel, she went to her backpack and decided on tackling the electronic paperwork that she was surely drowning in by now. Flipping open the lid of her laptop, she began to type, but only minutes passed before she noticed the figure on her couch beginning to stir and make small sounds.

The movement instantly pulled her attention from the dull documents and charts.

‘Her painkillers shouldn’t have worn off yet,’ the doctor thought confusedly. Checking the clock confirmed her suspicion that it would be another four hours until her next application. 

Reaching for an assortment of medicine and deciding anti-infection ointment would probably be beneficial, Anna was applying the medication when a hand stopped her. 

Surprised, she dropped the tube and it hit the carpet with a muffled thump, “Are you awake?”

The woman in question looked around the room languidly, not quite connected with reality yet, “Where am I?”

“This is my house. Apartment actually. I found you outside last night unconscious and hurt. I’m going to make sure you recover,” the surgeon wrung her hands, an unprecedented nervous tremble starting to shake them.

“That won’t be necessary. I should probably be leaving. You have my deepest thanks for taking care of me,” realizing that she still had her palm on the redhead’s shoulder, the witch quickly removed her hand and made to stand up. Her knees buckled and her hands flew to the physician’s arms for support.

Worry crossed her face, “You’re in no shape to be up and about. You’ve been out for almost a day now.”

The blonde sighed, seemingly irritated at herself, “I truly appreciate your kindness, but I must return to my master. Please, allow me to go.”

“They left you for dead.”

The words hung heavily between the two. 

“That doesn’t matter,” Anna had been right about the mage’s eyes; they were so very blue. They were now cast toward the carpeted floor.

Seeing the dejected look of utter resignation, Anna’s impulse made a return, “You’re not going anywhere.”


	3. Ice Magic and Kitchen Fires

“I beg your pardon?” her scrutiny showed a flicker of suspicion, worry, fear, and something else. She stood again, this time without her legs giving out. 

The moment of concentration was intimidating, searing blue eyes focused on teal until the woman swayed unsteadily from fever. Anna instantly jumped forward to catch the mage, who shakily waved away the help.

The red-haired physician adamantly held on to her arm anyway, “I’m not letting you go back to whatever hell you came from. You nearly died; they  _ left _ you to die.”

The emotions slammed guardedly shut on the magic-user’s face, “As I have said, it matters not. I am merely a servant. I do not have a say in such matters. Please transport me to the nearest--”

“Look at yourself!” she half yelled, her voice raw.

The silver-haired witch flinched back at her raised voice, and instantly lowered her head. Barely standing steadily, shirtless and covered in half-wrapped bandages, the woman was a sorry sight to behold. 

Guilt welled up in her at seeing the reaction, “I’m sorry. But I can’t let you go back there. If you have to, just think of this as me getting away with kidnapping you. I’m illegally in possession of a witch and I’m trying to get away with it. Is that fine?”

Heart-achingly blue eyes flashed up, “No! I-I couldn’t possibly burden you like that,” a storm of thoughts left a bare imprint on her visage and she spoke again, “You’ve already done more than enough for me. I will forever be in your debt. But please, return me. I have already overstayed my welcome.”

“I said no,” fiery brows furrowed with concern. The statement carried no anger, only a firmness, “There is no way I’m sending you back to someone who beats you and leaves you in the cold.”

“I’m immune to the cold,” the witch said as if it absolved all the previous atrocities she’d endured.

Anna could only stare in incredulity, “And that makes it alright to throw you in a bush to bleed out?”, a second passed, “And please sit down. You’re making me nervous.” Her request was heeded.

The other woman cringed at the word-choice while sitting gingerly, “The cold likely helped me to recover sooner.”

The redhead just shook her head, giving up, “Whatever the case, could you please stay?”

“I have to return to Master,” her oceanic eyes took on an unnatural glaze, like this line was something she had repeated, over and over her whole life. A mantra. Return. Master. Return. Master. Disregard her own wants and needs. Conceal. 

Stop feeling, “You’ve been abandoned. They don’t want you anymore. Why would you do that to yourself?” Surely there was no way any living person would subject themselves to  _ that _ .

“I have no other home,” the look in her eyes was chilling. The witch genuinely didn’t see any other option besides going back to someone who inflicted horrific wounds on her.

Something snapped in the fiery, shorter woman, “Then I’ll give you one!” Earnest, pleading. Something in Anna just wanted the woman to stay. There was no explanation, just the overwhelming urge to keep the witch by her side.

A dead gaze met hers, “You cannot.”

The resignation was infuriating and unsettling to Anna. It was watching learned helplessness in action and she thought that psychology topic was eerie in a textbook.

“Then goddamn it I swear I’ll try,” the ginger-haired woman’s eyes burned with a fierce light, “So help me, if it’s the last thing I do, I’m not letting you go back to the  _ fucker _ who abuses you.

She was met with silence.

“Do you want to go back.” Her gaze pried at the mage. She had to know; there wasn’t a turning back from this.

Sluggish minutes passed as the blonde fought with herself in her mind.

A small head shake ‘no’. 

The biggest feeling of relief washed over the surgeon, and she slumped a little “Then it’s settled.”

***

The blonde agreed to a nap, allowing the redhead to find a moment to freak out on her own. After she collected herself, she realized her guest hadn’t eaten in at least a full 24-hours, and that her electronic paper work wasn’t going to do itself.

Thus, Anna found herself back in the kitchen. Sighing as she put on her splash-proof apron, she stood in front of her burners and began the long, arduous process of not knowing what the hell to do.

It was exhausting.

On second thought, Anna almost wished she was back with the other woman, repeatedly asking for her to stay put. Tentatively, she began washing and cutting vegetables, and tried cooking them with the whole olive oil thing that Gordon Ramsay did a lot. 

Somehow, the whole lot caught on fire. 

“Shit shit shit,” cursing her inability to put together a semblance of a meal, she frantically dug through her frayed mind on what to do. 

‘You were doing just fine a second ago!’

By the time she had a lid, ready to plonk it onto the blazing affair, it had already frozen solid. 

“Ice magic?” The terrible chef felt her eyes widen and turned to look behind her. The witch’s hands glowed with a residual powder blue. A wave of her hand thawed the frost, revealing the black, crisping mass of vegetation.

Smoothing her ruffled hair with a shy nod, “Yes. Do you mind if I try?” 

The red-haired surgeon stuttered inelegantly, but thankfully the other woman seemed to understand. Taking the pan from her, the other woman began cleaning to rewind the disastrous attempt. After taking stock of her materials, and opening the fridge to replace some items, she began.

The kitchen started smelling heavenly in minutes.

“That’s incredible.”

A soft smile, “It’s nothing.” The physician sat on her bar stool, unwilling to step in since she could very well set fire to the building the next time she helped. Unbidden, a sudden worry crossed her mind.

“Are you alright? You’re still--”

A headshake, “I can heal my own injuries pretty well. The fever stopped once I lowered my temperature.” Anna wasn’t sure to be reassured or bothered. 

‘She’s used to being injured severely.’ That didn’t bode well at all.

Plating what she had been expertly tossing in the pan, the witch took utensils and set them in front of Anna, “It’s ready, Master.”

“Uh, guh-huh?”

‘That was incredibly intelligent. Great going,’ the ginger’s subconscious laughed at her.

A puzzled cant of a silver-white head, “Did you not want dinner, Master?”

‘ _ Master?’ _

“No, it’s yours. And, why are you calling me that?”

“I assumed that you became my new owner,” the blonde’s mind seemed to visibly short-circuit, she looked down, ashamed “What would you like me to address you as then?”

“Just Anna is fine,” the red-haired woman bit her lip.  _ New owner…  _ The title gave an array of mixed feelings. 

“Anna,” the mage tested the name on her lips. She seemed to roll it on her tongue, acquainting herself with the syllables and pronunciation. Anna tried to stifle her rising blush.

“Um, what should I call you?” 

Ice blue eyes met hers, “Please call me Elsa.” She averted her gaze, only to glance back several times.

“Nice to meet you, Elsa” she grinned at the magic-wielder. This wasn’t going to be so rough after all.

***

The two sat on the living room couches, (thankfully, for Anna anyway) fully dressed and not causing any fireworks in the vicinity to be jealous. 

Though she had claimed to be not hungry, Anna couldn’t resist. Elsa had made a medley out of vegetables she usually put off eating every week. It was absolutely delicious.

“I always thought my rice sucked,” the physician shoved a forkful of rice-drizzled-with-homemade-teriyaki-sauce-topped-with-broccoli. 

A mild shake of her head, “Few people know how to properly cook rice, as simple as it seems. Done well, simple ingredients can be good.” The witch, by contrast, ate demurely. In the silence, her eyes became downcast and brooding.

“I know this is going to be different for you, but this is kinda how it’s going to be for a while,” cerulean orbs flicked up from their shared meal, “My friend took your ID tag off, so you won’t be tracked anymore. We’ll have to get you a fake, if you ever need to go out. I’m a doctor, so it should be believable that I can afford a mage. That’ll probably be the best way for us both to stay safe, moving forward.”

After processing for a moment, the woman agreed with a nod. However, she seemed incredibly distracted.

“Hey,” the soft call brought the wandering focus back, “Do you need anything?”

Headshakes that increased in range and intensity, like she was convincing herself, “No, M--no, I’m alright.” Anna winced internally at the parapraxis.

“Then what is it?” Searching eyes found hers, deciphering and piecing together whatever the blonde found in them. She must have found a satisfactory answer within, because she spoke.

“Why?”

“What do you mean?” A deep, inquisitive stare continued to probe at the shorter woman. Feeling self-conscious, she focused on her food instead.

“Why did you help me?”

‘Ah. Your motivations.’

She set her fork down with a slight clatter, “True be told, I have no idea myself. I told myself I had to set aside everything for my career,” she looked down at her hands, hands that have performed operation after operation since residency, “I became rather disconnected. I grew up, in a strange place. I promised myself I would work as hard as I could and never be in that position again,” suddenly feeling a lot more somber, she quieted her speech.

“My parents died when I was younger,” she continued looking at her hands, missing the way the mage started, “And I was shuffled from orphanage to orphanage. I’m one of the lucky ones to be adopted,” she laughed softly, “They weren’t the best, but they raised me. I worked as hard as I could in school, and now I never have to see them again. It’s funny,” she looked at the witch, lips parted as she listened to the physician’s story, “I haven’t felt much emotionally for a long time. I don’t normally care about anything. And then there’s you.”

“Something about you made me stop that night. And I just had to. That’s the only way I can put it,” the redhead looked back up, feeling lighter yet so vulnerable. No one but Rapunzel knew her story, and only a portion of it. In a single evening, this woman had drawn more out of her, completely voluntarily, than anyone else had been able to.

Her eyes had turned a rich, navy shade, “I believe you.” 

A comfortable silence settled over the unlikely pair, and was only broken when the witch moved to stand and grimaced, nearly keeling over from pain. The other occupant at the table lunged and caught her, setting her back into her chair.

“Hang on a second,” Anna called as she retrieved some of the medication Rapunzel left, “Here, take these two. And this one. You’ll need this one every four hours and this one every six. Crap, this one too. Every six as well.”

Holding her palm out, the magic-wielder accepted the capsules graciously and took them. 

“You’ll also need to apply this stuff,” much less sure this time, Anna held out two tubes of cream, meant for the  _ marks _ .

“I will be sure to use it.” Without another word, the blonde departed for the restroom, likely to apply the ointments herself.

Wordlessly, Anna collected their dishes and made her way to the sink. It was painfully difficult to avoid imagining the other woman nude, merely inches away on the other side of the wall.


End file.
